The edge of a plate is very thin
With one false step you fall right in,
Descending fast deep in the stew
There’s really nothing you can do.
Except perhaps flail like a fly
That simply has refused to die,
Causing the patron with a sneer
To yell, ‘Hey waiter over here’,
I have an insect in my bowl
Its causing quite the folderol.
A finger then descends from high
Flicking you hard to surface dry,
With just such luck you do survive
To make a second Acapulco dive.
The moral of this tale I tell
I hope you digest really well,
If you tumble in the stew
Be sure to cause a hullabaloo.